Hotel Motel Holiday Inn
by BonsaiBabe
Summary: An overnight stay at a roadside hotel becomes the bane of Roderich's existence when he is forced to share a room with Gilbert. But wait, the weekend isn't over so easily as Roderich battles some uncomfortable feelings for the man he always bickers with.
1. Chapter 1

**[A/N I start everything **_**in media res **_**lol. Such a diverse writer here.**

**BTW I'd like to point out that the title is taken from Rapper's Delight from the Sugar Hill Gang. Easily the best 14 minute long rap song. Hell, easily the best rap song period.**

**Rating: I chose M just to be safe but there is no explicit sex.]**

"Oh, no no no no no," I said, slamming my hands down on the counter a little harder than I meant to. "That's just not going to work," my eyes flicked down to the man's name tag, "Feliks. Surely you have _something_ else. Some other arrangement?"

"Like, I just said dude. Only two rooms, both with a queen sized bed and no tub, only a shower. There's, like, a convention or something in town. Boring stuff. But the hotel's mostly, um, booked."

I turned to Ludwig, silently appealing for mercy. I found none returned in his level gaze. Sure, I understand that he was tired. He did do most of the driving today. But couldn't he understand that there were very few options for us here, absolutely none of them to my liking?

Ludwig held my gaze for a moment more before flicking it tiredly to Feliks. "We'll take the rooms, please. Here's my credit card. Feli, be a dear and help Gilbert get the bags from the car while I finish up here." Feliciano did as he was asked, leaving Ludwig and I at the counter.

I cleared my throat meaningfully, but Ludwig ignored me. The bored looking blond man behind the counter had gone back to leafing through his magazine after tossing the hotel registry papers on the counter. Ludwig patiently scratched away at them, dutifully filling them out in triplicate with his small, insanely neat script. It looked as if the forms had been filled out with a type writer, his writing was so uniform. Ludwig was definitely ignoring me.

"Ludwig I'm just going to come right out and say it. I won't share a room with that man."

"Well, Roderich, I don't know what to tell you." Ludwig snapped, slapping the pen on the table and turning an exasperated gaze upon me. "I'm tired and I have no mind to find another hotel. It's just for one night. You'll survive."

"I'll room with Feliciano then," I said brashly.

"You do know he sleeps naked," Ludwig mused. "I even watched him pack for the trip. No pajamas in his overnight bag or suitcase."

My stomach had that feeling you get when you think you've missed a stair in the dark. "So naturally, it would be best if Feli roomed with me," Ludwig concluded.

I was so miserable I could spit. I had half a mind to do it too, out of sheer bad sportsmanship. Life seemed exceedingly unfair at the moment. Why should I have to spend the night, _sleep in the same room_, with the very man who once grabbed my ass in a crowded elevator and asked how I liked it in the bedroom, then not even two hours later tripped me at my own birthday party. Straight into the cake.

XxXxX

"Give me that," I practically spat, pulling my overnight bag out of Gilbert's grip with more force than was strictly necessary. Gilbert didn't pay me any mind. He was too busy texting with one hand and dragging our bags along the floor with the other. The fact I couldn't raise an argument with him made me more aggravated.

"Oi," Ludwig said, hailing us from the elevators on the other side of the lobby. "I have the keys. You three come on now. I want some sleep dammit."

Feli skipped to Ludwig without a care in the world. And why shouldn't he be happy? He didn't have to spend the evening cooped up in a room with an uncouth ruffian. We all four boarded the elevator. Somehow Gilbert and I got into an elbowing match as both of us tried to slip through the doors in front of the other. I jabbed him particularly hard before stepping to safety, separated with our two travel companions between us. "Here," Ludwig said, handing me a key card. The other one he put in the back pocket of his jeans. Gilbert didn't look up from his phone, which was periodically buzzing to show he had new messages. He held out his hand in Ludwig's general direction. After nothing happened for several moments, Gilbert actually took his eyes from his phone. "Card," he drawled, going straight back to his phone as it buzzed again. Who on earth could he be texting so vigorously with? You really can't tell me there's actually someone who _enjoys_ extended conversations with that damned albino brute.

"You and Roderich will have to share a room. There's a convention in town this weekend and the hotel only had two rooms to let," Ludwig stated in his matter-of-fact voice. I cringed a little even though I already knew. It was just hearing the news again gave me the same sensation as having a cold, slimy fish put down the back of my shirt unexpectedly.

Gilbert didn't respond. Or if he did, I didn't hear it because we had reached our floor and I flew out of the elevator. "Roderich," Ludwig called after me as I stomped to room 47. "We're in room 41. Remember, I want to leave by nine tomorrow so we can make it into the city before dinner." I didn't slow down or acknowledge I heard. Maybe if I got to the room quick enough I could lock Gilbert out…..

But dammit, that bastard is speedy. He kept pace with me easily. I fumbled with the key card, too flustered to time the swipe and turning of the knob on the first try. Or the second. When I swiped the card the third time Gilbert swiftly turned the knob, his hand on top of mine. I don't like it when he stands so close. I don't trust him and he makes me feel uncomfortable.

Gilbert flicked on the lights. The room was standard roadside fair. Not the kind of place you would stay in for a nice vacation, but sufficient enough for an overnight layover. The carpet was dingy and the press wood furniture was nicked and scratched. I looked around, desperately hoping that there was a sofa or at least a padded arm chair I could sleep in, but unfortunately this room had neither. Some hotel rooms had desk or table sets, but this room wasn't large enough. No, it was just a low dresser, tv, bed, nightstand, and lamp.

"Hey," Gilbert said, surprised, "There's only one bed? Did West give us the wrong key?"

"Both rooms are the same," I responded, not caring how blunt my voice was. "Naturally, you'll be sleeping on the floor."

Gilbert snorted. "Like hell I will. You sleep on the floor."

"I will not," I said. This floor is much too dirty. My skin crawled at the thought of any of my body touching that floor, including my bare feet. Choosing to ignore Gilbert, I set to work pulling the bedspread off onto the floor. Really, those things are so disgusting. Hotels may change the sheets but they don't change the bedspreads. I'd be surprised if they washed them even once a year. You don't know what debauchery has occurred on them. I certainly won't be sleeping with one of those near me.

I reached down to get my duffle bag and saw Gilbert was removing his shirt. "What are you doing?"

"I'm going to take a shower. Jeesh." At least he went into the bathroom and shut the door before removing the rest of his clothes. Since there was nothing better to do I flicked through the channels on the television. I settled on watching BBC World News. Once I kicked off my shoes I realized how tired I was. Sure, I was just setting in a car all day but that in itself is taxing upon the nerves. I was much too tired to attempt a shower. Might as well wait to do it in the morning. I might just turn in now and save myself a hearty late night argument with Gilbert.

I unzipped my duffle bag and pulled out a white t-shirt and—and where are my pajama bottoms? Don't tell me I forgot my pajama bottoms? Dammit, I'll have to sleep in my underwear. I took off my jeans and folded all of my clothes back into the duffle bag. Carefully, I put my glasses in their case and tucked them away as well. If I slip under the covers and get up before Gilbert in the morning he'll be none the wiser. I switched the bedside lamp off and curled up at the edge of the bed, facing the dowdy curtains covering the windows on the far wall. The sooner I go to sleep the sooner this unfortunate stay will be over.

XxXxX

Unfortunately, I wasn't asleep when Gilbert finally came out of the bathroom, though I pretended to be. The lights flicked on and they stung my tired eyes. "Do you mind?" I asked, trying not to sound snotty.

"What?" Gilbert said, nonchalantly. "You weren't sleeping. I could tell by the way your shoulders were tensed up. Mad because I caught you pretending?" I couldn't stand the smug tone in his voice. It just pushed my buttons too much. I decided to take the high road and not answer.

The lights went out after a few minutes. I expected the tv to flick on but Gilbert just climbed into bed and laid down. I tried to be patient as Gilbert settled in, trying to make himself comfortable. He better not be riching around all night or I'll knock his block off.

The bed shook once as Gilbert rolled over. He was encroaching on what I thought of as my side of the bed and I didn't appreciate it. Finally, though, he was still. I concentrated on going to sleep. That proved to be counterproductive. I had a hard time nodding off in unfamiliar places and the current circumstances weren't helping one bit. Man, do I hate hotels. That's why I never go on vacation.

The bed sheets rustled softly as Gilbert inched himself closer to me. I was starting to get a bad feeling about this. I couldn't decide whether to say something or pretend to be asleep. I wracked my brain indecisively, becoming slightly frantic as I failed to make a decision. Then I felt his arm slide over my waist. Gilbert moved just a little closer until he was almost spooning me. That's it, that's the final straw.

"What do you think you're doing," I whispered hoarsely, my words not nearly as powerful or authoritative as I had meant them to be. Gilbert didn't answer but I felt his lips gently touch the back of my neck. My skin was overly sensitive to the sensation and I barely managed to suppress a shiver. "Stop," I croaked.

"Why," Gilbert asked, his lips moving against my neck.

"Because….." I trailed, unable to find any more words. Gilbert began moving his hands across my stomach, just under my rib cage. His touch was light and the trail of his fingertips left a ghost sensation dragging across my skin. Why was I so sensitive? My body was on edge. I tried to speak again but my throat remained thickly closed. My mind was a deer caught in the headlights. The solution it came up with? Just ignore this until Gilbert stopped. Eventually he would stop. He _had _to stop. Surely he would lose interest. This was all just a game to him, wasn't it?

Gilbert's hand dipped lower. His hand actually went under my shirt and touched the soft skin of my stomach. I had to stop myself from sucking in a loud breath. _No reaction, no reaction, don't show him a single reaction. _Gilbert lingered over the skin around my belly button, drawing nonsense patterns just above it. He then trailed a single finger until it dipped into my belly button then dragged it lower still. Now Gilbert's touch was just above the waistband of my boxers. I held my breath, unsure of what he would do next. To my surprise, he backed off a little, running his hand to my chest, allowing the thin fabric of my shirt to separate our skin. Now used to his touch, to his pleasantly rough hands running lightly over my skin, the separation made my skin cry out for the friction. My own body is turning traitor and my mind didn't know how to handle it. Surely I didn't desire _Gilbert _of all people.

My breath caught as his hands ventured lower once more. Gilbert ran past my stomach, over my underwear to rub my hips in that same maddeningly slow way. His hand ran from one hip to the other as best he could considering I was lying on my side, slowly increasing in pressure. Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, the palm of his hand pressing pleasantly against my right hipbone as it passed. I was so concentrated on the anticipation of him passing from hip bone to hip bone that my hips twitched before I even knew they were _thinking _of twitching.

I swore in my head. Gilbert laughed self confidently. "Why are you doing this," I asked, still whispering conspiratorially, as if we might be overheard.

Gilbert pressed his lips once again to the back of my neck. I could feel his hair, wet from the shower, touch my head. "I was just wondering the other day," he said conversationally, "what it would feel like to have you cum in my hand."

My eyes widened in the darkness. And my lips parted to allow a deep inhale of breath. I'm not sure what I expected him to say but that sure wasn't it. This time when Gilbert ran his hands over my hip it was beneath my boxers. I didn't protest. Instead I shifted a little on the bed, leaning back on him a bit, allowing him better access to my hips and stomach. This was all the permission Gilbert needed it seemed, as he ran his hand further down my body, fingers ghosting over the edge of my pubic hair, continuing down until he was touching my thigh. The caress traveled north again then changed directions. Even though I knew it was coming, I still jumped a little as he touched my penis.

It was the first time anyone had touched me there in a long time. In a _very_ long time. So excuse me if I was a little too eager. Judging by the feeling of his lips on my neck, Gilbert was smiling at how easy I was getting hard. For now, his touch was light and lingering, feeling me out, getting his bearings in the dark. I was also enjoying the feel of body spooning mine, of leaning on him for support as he stroked lightly.

His fingers worked nimbly, divinely around the head of my erection and I was a little embarrassed feel the slick wetness of pre-cum slick between us. _Only 14 year old boys and overeager virgins pre-cum _Francis had told me once, trying to sound wise and benevolent. Luckily, in the dark nobody could see you blush.

Gilberts hands were really working up to speed now running up and down my shaft with an even, practiced pressure that shamed the sloppy masturbation I sometimes indulged in when I showered. He palmed the head a little and it felt so good. My breathing was beginning to noticeably speed up and I tried not to over think this. _Don't think about how awkward this is, don't think about how you're going to look Gilbert in the eye ever again, just concentrate on his touch, Oh, his touch. Oh, he's so good. Mmph. This guy must have a lot of practice. _

The obscene, slightly off tempo sound of masturbation seemed to be overly loud, and as silly as I knew it was I worried briefly that someone might overhear us. At the moment though I didn't care. Gilbert's hand was giving me the perfect pressure and my hips buckled a few times in good natured thrusts. I was really enjoying myself now. Well, as much as I could considering I was going to die of embarrassment in the morning. I could feel my orgasm starting to build, low in my stomach and faintly at first, building in intensity like a dam about to break and suddenly Gilbert's tempo changed drastically. He switched to slow and steady. It should have been a letdown but someone his confident, yet slow strokes still worked towards my release, except now my orgasm was building slowly. It was driving me mad and yet I loved it. I'd never felt it like this before. I always felt orgasms to be quick, uncontrollable things. Fleet of foot but powerful. This slow build was something new.

When it finally did hit me it was like a slow motion play back of how I usually orgasm. When I masturbate alone I never make a sound but then again, it's never been as good as this. I gasped when it began to hit me, and then in took some sharp breaths. By this time I was peaking, my body jerked a little in instinctive thrusts. I threw my head back a little, luckily not too hard because I hit Gilbert's forehead with the back of my head. I gave out another gasp then a few little noises I couldn't hold back. Gilbert moaned low and quiet as I came into his hand.

When my body was finished jerking and my orgasm was regretfully gone Gilbert relinquished his grasp. I wasn't expecting it when he grabbed my face, his hand still wet with my cum, and pulled my head to my shoulder, so he could kiss me from behind. He kissed me lightly one more then laid back.

Now outside of the heat of the moment it dawned on me that I just creamed my boxers and I had nothing else to change into. I groaned and slapped a hand to my face. one of my fingers slicked over some cum that was left on my face from when Gilbert grabbed it. Oh gosh. What the hell am I doing with my life?

"What's wrong," Gilbert asked.

"I-uh, I'm wet and I don't have anything to change into," I said finally, deciding that this mess was partially his responsibility as well. "Here," Gilbert said, rustling around under the covers a bit. He pulled off his pajama pants and handed them to me. "Take your wet boxers off and wear these instead. I would hate for you to be all wet and sticky when we cuddle."

I took the pants without a word, surprised both by his generosity and his words. I didn't really peg Gilbert as a cuddly sort of person. But then again, I sure didn't expect him to give me a handjob in a shitty hotel on our way to the Frankfurt Finance and Economic Conference either.

Suddenly, I realized that this conference is a weeklong event. This is just the _beginning _of the trip. What the hell else did Gilbert have in store for me?

This could be one interesting conference. And I'm not just talking Euro wise.

**[A/N WOOOOOO W-W-W-W-Writer's block break! I've started a couple of other stories but I just haven't been satisfied with how they flowed. This is my first good piece in awhile. I mean, it's not perfect but it's steps above the sketchy shit I've attempted to churn out lately. I feel I can be relatively proud of this :)**

**Please review! Even if I don't get a chance to respond back I really appreciate you guys!]**


	2. Chapter 2

Usually, in the morning it takes me ages to wake up. Not this morning. I was asleep, and then _bam._ Awake. The first thought in my mind was a rushed playback from last night followed by a _you really did it this time. _As I felt my body come awake I could feel breath on my neck. I was laying in his arms. Disgusting, really.

As I detangled myself from Gilbert's sleeping form I cursed my own weakness. How will I ever live this down? Gilbert will be bragging about it before we've pulled out of the damned parking lot. Worse, he'll be on that damn phone of his sending a mass text to the entire free world. Kill him. I'm going to have to murder him, aren't I? Make it look like an accident. I—I can't do it. I'm too good of a person. Damn.

As quietly as I could, I got out of bed. I was still wearing his pants, of course. I grabbed my duffle bag and went straight to the bathroom. I yanked the pants off like I was mad at them. Once the shower was warmed as hot as it would go I gladly got in. I seriously meant to scour the previous evening from my skin.

Though I wished to linger in the shower, preferably until I completely dissolved away, I tried to be quick. I needed to be out of here before Gilbert woke. I dried off and put my clothes on. Peeking my head out of the door, I could still hear Gilbert's slow, deep breathing. Surely he was still asleep. I laid the pants at the foot of the bed. My mind wished to linger a moment over what happened in that bed but I quickly squashed that urge. I'm over thinking this. As mortified as I am about my behavior it's not as though we had sex together. It was nothing. What we did was nothing and I would not speak or think of it again.

XxXxX

The hotel boasted a breakfast I would hardly call continental. I sat down with a bagel, bad coffee, and a copy of the paper some other patron had left behind. I was quite engrossed in an article about local soybean production when Ludwig came into the small dining area. "How did you sleep," Ludwig asked conversationally, stirring cream into a Styrofoam cup of coffee.

"Fine," I said shortly.

"I take it you and Gilbert got along alright. You look well rested this morning."

I put my paper down with a peevish swish. "And what, pray tell, is that supposed to mean?"

"I just meant that your face has a good color to it. That's all. But I take it back seeing you are grumpy as hell this morning." Ha. That's rich coming from Ludwig Beilschmidt. Despite his love for Feliciano, the man can't go thirty minutes without yelling at the poor boy. I didn't answer Ludwig. I merely picked my paper back up and opened it crisply.

We sat in silence for at least twenty minutes longer. I had long ago finished my paper but I still pretended to read on so that I wouldn't have to make conversation. "It's getting late," Ludwig commented, as he sat down with his second cup of coffee. "Did you wake Gilbert up before you came down?" 

"No," I commented, trying my best to sound nonchalant.

"I woke Feliciano up but I'm sure he went back to sleep the moment I left the room. I'll go and wake them both up." I didn't even put my paper down to acknowledge his departure.

I sighed loudly. I know I'm acting awkward around Ludwig but I can't help it. And it can only get worse. _Oh my._ My stomach cramped suddenly. _Ludwig is going to wake Gilbert up. Oh god. What if the first words out of Gilbert's unholy mouth are 'I totally fisted Roderich's meat last night. High five Bruder!' _

I wonder how much cab fare back to my house would be. Do cabs take credit cards now-a-days? Then I thought of the collective wrath that would descend upon my face from Ludwig and my bosses if I missed this conference. And the worst part? Even if I run away I'll have to deal with this eventually. So I might as well save myself the grief from my bosses and endure this week from hell.

XxXxX

I didn't see Gilbert until Ludwig had checked out and pulled the car around. God forbid Feliciano have to walk more than ten meters without a forty minute rest waiting at the end. Ludwig even carried Feliciano's bag to the car for him. Must be nice to have someone to wait on you hand and foot. Hmph.

"Oi, what's wrong, Specks? You look like you ate something sour."

I actually jumped at the sound of Gilbert's voice. I don't know why I felt so guilty but just looking at him made me want to fall into an abysmal crater. Gilbert _had _to have noticed the awkwardness literally oozing out of my pours (or maybe that was just nervous sweat, but I'd rather not comment either way). Though Gilbert was still giving me his full attention, cheekily raising his eyebrows at me, I didn't answer him. I just walked to the car and slung my duffle bag into the trunk. "Can I sit in the front seat?" I asked.

"Noooope! I called shotgun Aaages ago!" Feliciano called cheerfully.

"Please?"

"Ve~Rules are rules."

"Ludwig," I said, appealing to higher powers.

"Everybody get in the car," Ludwig barked. "I'm not playing this game."

Ludwig had his 'you will do as I say' voice in full play. I had two options: get into a large argument over sitting in the front seat or just get into the car. I would seriously consider the first option except for how suspicious it would be. I have no valid reason for making a big deal about this other than wanting to be as far away from Gilbert as possible.

Miserably, I got into the seat behind Ludwig. I wish I would have brought my Ipod. Well, actually, I would have had to find the thing first as I hardly use it. Gilbert and Feli got into the car as well and Ludwig took off. The first half hour of the trip was that annoying 'settling in' period. Gilbert barked that he was hot and he wanted the windows down. Feli countered that the wind messed up his hair. Ludwig yelled at them both as they fought and I suggested that we turn on the A/C. I love my fellow countries but I swear when you get too many of them in the same place the collective IQ of the immediate area goes down.

Feli messed with the radio until I thought I would snap. How can he even tell if he likes the station if he flicks through so fast? This went on for another five minutes until he settled on what must be the only Spanish dance music channel in all of the Germanic countries. I tried to doze against the window but I could never sleep in cars. Besides, I had slept pretty good last night and wasn't tired.

We were on the highway so there wasn't even anything to look at. I can't read in the car because it makes me carsick. The list of my personal bitching could go on and on and on.

About an hour and a half into the car ride, inexplicably, Gilbert reached over and took my hand. I jerked my hand away without even thinking about it. Feeling stunned didn't come for a few minutes, but when it did, it didn't disappoint. _What the devil was that about? _I wondered. Had I just imagined that whole scenario? I peeked over to Gilbert, worried for a millisecond that I had hurt his feelings. He was barley perceptively nodding his head in time to some music and looking straight ahead. If that man has ever felt bad about himself a moment in his life then I am a monkey's uncle. Seriously, it should be criminal to have that much self esteem.

XxXxX

"We're just outside Frankfurt," Ludwig announced. That was the best new I'd heard all day. Gilbert hadn't tried anything else, but I was still eager to put some distance between us.

Ludwig stopped at a station to put fuel in the car. He and Feli went inside the gas station to use the restrooms and pay for the fuel. I had a painfully full bladder as well but public restrooms thoroughly disgust me. I can wait until we get to the hotel.

As soon as Ludwig and Feli were out of sight Gilbert took his headphones off. I kept looking straight ahead although I could see him out of the corner of my eye. He was definitely looking at me. I pretended not to notice. "When we get to the hotel are we going to be rooming together again?" Gilbert said.

"No," I replied, forcing myself to turn my head in his direction as not to be rude. "Ludwig made reservations for this hotel. I'm sure he and Feliciano will be staying together but we'll have our own rooms."

"Well, I know West got three rooms," Gilbert said in his even-a-moron-would-know-this voice, "but I thought we might stay together."

"Why in the world would we do that," I said icily.

"Well," he replied, unbuckling his seat belt and moving closer to me, "You sounded like you really enjoyed yourself last night. And I didn't get a chance to get mine."

"I didn't exactly _ask _you for 'mine.'" I snapped back, shrinking away as our shoulders touched.

Gilbert only snorted as if he knew better. That infuriated me. "What is this all about anyways," I exploded. "Why are you doing this to me?"

"We like each other," Gilbert said, shrugging as if it were obvious. Now that he had moved even closer I was trapped, wedged snugly between him and the door. "How do you figure we like each other?"

"Well, we fight all of the time," he said, as if it should be obvious. I just gave him an amazed look. Really? We can't stand to be in each other's company without fighting so therefore we should _be together? _That has to be the stupidest thing I've ever heard.

"You and Romano fight all of the time," I said, pointing out the very obvious flaw in his demented logic.

"No, no," Gilbert dismissed. "That's different. That Italian fuck and I fight because we can't stand each other. He's a bad tempered, self righteous hypocrite and we fight over how wrong he is all of the time."

"I'm still not seeing how that's any different from us." It made me feel slimy to say _us. _

"_We,_" Gilbert said, emphasizing the word in a way I didn't quite care for, "fight because we find it hard to express our feelings." Because we find it hard—what the devil is he on about? And call me crazy, but this doesn't exactly sound like Gilbert. It sounds too _caring _to have originated from Beilschmidt over here.

Wait a second. "Did Feliciano sell you this cockamamie story?"

"Well, yes," Gilbert said, yet again using that vastly infuriating even-a-moron-would-know-this voice. "But he's right, you know."

"Gilbert, you can't just _decide _we like each other just because someone tells you we do." I searched his face looking for any sign that this information was sticking. Or even sinking in.

"Why not?" Did he really just ask why not?

"B-because," I sputtered. "_I don't like you. _I don't like you as a _person,_ I don't like you as a _country,_" I didn't add ex in front of country because that would send Gilbert right over the top. "And I sure as hell don't like you romantically!"

"Kiss me then. Tell me we wouldn't be totally awesome together."

"_Hell no," _I said, finally snapping. I pushed him away from me with as much strength as I could. Gilbert fell back, bumping his head against the opposite window. "Ow," he commented, rubbing the back of his head with a frown. "Gilbert, please stop this nonsense. I shouldn't have allowed last night to happen. I don't know what I was thinking."

"You were thinking that you wanted to know what it felt like, for us to be together, I mean." And the way he said it, that even-a-moron-would-know-this voice, didn't annoy me this time so much as give me a pause. Just past Gilbert's head I could see Ludwig and Feliciano fast approaching the car. I didn't say another word, just turned myself away from Gilbert with a huff.

XxXxX

**[A/N Hmm… I guess I'm going to continue writing this thing then. Cool. Reviews appreciated and I love you all for reading. ]**


	3. Chapter 3

**[A/N Booooring chapter. But it's the next-to-last chapter so enjoy!] **

My humor wasn't improved, even when finally, gloriously alone in my hotel room. I lay on the hotel bed—minus the comforter, of course—staring up at the ceiling. I thought it would be more relaxing than this, but there was little to do in the hotel room. Sure, I could watch TV but what's the use in that? Everything on the telly has been trash ever since they switched to color.

I would do paperwork, but alas, I am already two months ahead of my work schedule and the ministry refuses to forward me anymore. Elizaveta must have been talking to them again. I adore the woman but she does have a tendency to be a little _too _involved in my emotional, social, and physical wellbeing. Considering she divorced me and all. No, no I'm not bitter. Not at all.

I sat up and unzipped my suitcase. Knowing that I was coming on a trip I had bought three novels to read in my spare time. Scanning the summaries on the backs of the books, I was less than impressed. Now gripped in the throes of boredom, the selection in front of me hardly seemed an adequate diversion.

So what do responsible adult men do when they are bored, all alone in a hotel room? They shower, masturbate, or go mingle at the bar. I stared at my books a moment longer with a frown before getting up and grabbing my shoes.

XxXxX

"I'll have a…" I trailed off, at a loss. I'm not exactly what you would call a frequent drinker. "I'll have a glass of red wine."

"What kind? What year?" asked the bartender. I could tell he was less than impressed with my beverage prowess. Excuse me for not being a lush.

"Surprise me."

I leaned against the bar awkwardly as I waited for my drink. It was just before dinner so the hotel bar wasn't too full. I checked my watch. At seven I was to meet Feli, Ludwig, and Gilbert for dinner. Oh joy. As if spending two days in the car together wasn't enough quality time for us to divulge in. The bartender sat the drink down by my elbow. I muttered a thanks and handed him my room key so that he could charge it to my account. I sniffed the bouquet of the wine halfheartedly. I suppose I should take up wine drinking. It's a sophisticated man's game. But as I've said before, I'm not much of a drinker.

_This was a bad idea, _I thought, taking a seat at the bar. Drinking alone was just pathetic. Well, I'd already paid for this, might as well drink it. I got about half way through before I became disheartened. I understand wine, really I do. It's a fabulous drink with a lot of class and discretion but it's an acquired taste to say the least. Obviously I have yet to acquire it.

"What's the matter, someone spit in your drink?" I'll give you one guess as to who that was. The real question is whether or not he is stalking me.

"I'm afraid I don't have a taste for alcohol," I said, although I'm not sure why I felt I owed Gilbert any explanation at all.

"Then why are you drinking at all, Specks?"

The question made me bristle, perhaps a little more than it should have. My first instinct was to sneer at Gilbert, but I mustn't stoop to his level. "I wanted to relax after such a long car ride," I said, swirling my wine in the glass. Hold red wine by the body of the glass and white wine by the stem. Or is it red wine by the stem and white wine by the body?

"Hah," Gilbert said, "you just have to know what to drink. Here, I'll grab something." Is Gilbert really offering to buy me a drink? He moved down the bar towards the bartender before I could refuse his offer.

He came back to me holding a tall glass of what looked like Coke. "Here," Gilbert said triumphantly. "What is it," I was suspicious. I'm still undecided to if I'm going to take the glass.

"Just taste it," Gilbert said.

"No," I said slowly, as if explaining long division to a particularly dim student for the eight time. "Not until you tell me what it is."

"It's Dr. Pepper and Jagermeister," Gilbert said, rolling his eyes. "Trust me, you'll like it." I took the glass reluctantly. After all, there's probably no harm in _trying_ it. And Gilbert couldn't have slipped anything into it; I watched him and the bartender the whole time. I took a small sip. Not bad, not bad. It's just soft drink with a pleasant minty after taste. I took a larger drink. Yes, quite pleasant actually.

"It's…. ok," I allowed. Gilbert smirked. I rolled my eyes. Give Gilbert an inch and he'll take a mile. That's why I never complement the smug bastard. That and the fact that I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of feeling any better about himself then he already does.

Gilbert snagged my forgotten wine glass and took a surprisingly dainty sip. He swirled the glass and smelled the bouquet. "Merlot?" he asked. "Hope you didn't pay too much for this wine. Not that great of a head on it."

I shrugged. Don't tell me Gilbert knows about wine? Well, I suppose it's not that surprising considering Francis is his best friend. And I'm sure Feliciano brings a lot of wine into the house. Still, it bothers me that Gilbert knows more about something than I do.

"Hey, take it easy on that Jager, specks."

I waved his concern away. The drink was going down smooth so obviously there couldn't be that much alcohol in it. Besides, we didn't have that much time before we should leave for dinner.

"Man, this conference is gonna suck balls," Gilbert commented. I ignored his foul mouth with a grimace. "I'm actually looking forward to it," I replied.

"Oh, of course you are," Gilbert rolled his eyes. "You and West get off to this type of stuff. Speaking of West, we should leave for dinner now." We left our empty glasses on the bar and walked out into the main hall. Just in time to meet Ludwig and Feliciano coming around the corner. Ludwig's eyes flickered from Gilbert, to me, to the closing door of the bar room, reading the situation more clearly than I would have liked. Still, to his credit, the man didn't say anything, only ever so noticeably raised an eyebrow before turning his attention to Feliciano. Well damn him and damn his nosiness. I'm an adult. I can do as I please, thank you very much.

XxXxX

Ludwig and I usually got along swimmingly. After all, we shared the same bureaucratic passion and love of order. This trip, however, has been taxing upon me. Feliciano is always talkative but over dinner all I wanted was silence, dammit. Is that too much to ask? Ludwig seems overly indulging towards the Italian. _Annoyingly so, _I thought as Ludwig allowed Feli to pick out the appetizer and the wine for the table. And Gilbert? Well, I'm always annoyed at Gilbert. I shrank back a little as Gilbert and Ludwig laughed at one of Feli's silly joke.

_What is wrong with me,_ I wondered. I really am being cad but I can't help it. I'm just—just off-kilter. And I really don't know how to get _on-_kilter. If that's even a term. Huh.

I helped myself to a second glass of wine. The food here is quite good, I found with relief. At least this dinner wasn't a total waste. I let the other three carry the conversation without adding much. I'm in a snotty mood obviously and should be seen and not heard.

"You're not saying much, Roderich," Ludwig commented, as if he were in tune with my petulant musings. When I didn't respond right away he tryed to catch my eye with his. "Oh, I'm," I commented absentmindedly. I reached for the wine bottle for wont of a better way to occupy my hands. I accidentally bumped my water glass, sloshing the cold water onto the table cloth and causing the ice to clink and jitter loudly. Great. Just great. I'm really in fine form. I stood up quickly, meaning to grab a napkin and sop up the mess. Instead, I managed to bump the table harshly causing all of the glasses to rattle dangerously. _Oh, great. _

"Roderich," Ludwig said harshly, throwing his napkin down. "Are you drunk?"

"No, I only had this glass of wine," I gestured towards my glass helplessly.

"No, you had two with dinner," Feli commented, probably trying to be helpful.

"No, but that's it," I added, trying to get my two cents in.

"I saw you walking out of the bar with Gilbert. Are you trying to tell me you two were just walking through the garden," Ludwig barked, warming up his I-caught-you voice. The voice usually reserved for Gilbert's shenanigans. That was the thing about Ludwig. If he caught you in a lie, even a little one, he immediately assumed the defensive.

"Hey, hey," Gilbert cut in. "Let the man breath, Ludwig. So what if Specks has been hittin the bottle a little? No crime there. Jeeze. Not everyone is as big a hardass as you. Look, I'll take Roddy back up to his room and you and the squirt can enjoy the rest of your dinner in peace." Ludwig pressed his lips in a fine line but didn't protest. Gilbert was up and pulling me away. The room wasn't quite swimming, but it was shimmering a bit.

Gilbert pulled me along behind him too quickly. I had to lean heavily on his arm to avoid falling on my face. As soon as we were out of the dining room I pulled myself from his grip. "Slow down, dammit," I growled, rubbing my eyes.

"Damn, Specks. Don't tell me you're _really _drunk!"

"I'm not," I spat. "Just, just a little woozy in the head. I must have stood up too quickly. Then you go pulling me around like we're being chased."

"It's the Jager," Gilbert said wisely before moseying over to hit the elevator button. I rolled my eyes. Come on. It was one drink. "Why are you so grumpy anyways," Gilbert asked, hitting the elevator button again impatiently.

"I don't know. I'm just…. A little out of sorts lately," I confessed. Why was I telling Gilbert all of this again?

"Lately? As in the past day or two?" he asked innocently.

"Shut up," I scowled. Just then the elevator doors glided open smoothly. Gilbert literally pulled me into the elevator before I could change my mind.

"You're out of sorts because you secretly want to know what it's like," Gilbert said suddenly.

"Oh, not this horse pucky again," I said. I was starting to get angry. This same conversation from earlier? Haven't I made myself clear?

"Kiss me. Tell me you don't feel anything," Gilbert said. I don't think I've ever seen him this intent. He was holding my gaze with his own maroon eyes and I felt it a little disconcerting. That look…. Like he was hopeful, needy even, for me. For _me. _

"Why should I?" I said, narrowing my eyes.

"Look," he said, grimly while digging a coin out of his pocket. "You know what I want. Heads I win, tails you lose." I felt myself nodding. Why was I agreeing to go along with this crazy scheme? Could it be that I actually _was_ curious? I-I think so. This is the only way I could let go, though. Chance. It was out of my hands. Even if I lost, it wasn't like I was consenting to this crazy venture so much as being a good sport and taking my punishment. It was the only way my pride would allow the possibility of kissing that man.

He flipped the coin in the air and caught it deftly, slapping it onto his other wrist. "Hey," I said sharply. "I'll check the coin." Gilbert laughed breezily at my mistrust and offered me his wrist, removing his other hand in the process. It was heads. "Heads I win," Gilbert said softly. To his credit there wasn't an ounce of gloating in his voice.

He didn't waste time drawing near me. Ok, so this wasn't the first time we will kiss. Gilbert kissed me just yesterday under much seedier circumstances. Still, I couldn't stop my heart from hammering in my chest. Gilbert waited until I could meet his gaze before closing the rest of the distance. Our lips met softly, more gentle than I would have credited this ruffian. I must be breathing so hard. All I could hear was my heartbeat rushing in my ears and my breath falling on Gilbert's cheek loudly. At some point my muscles in my legs and back must have weakened because I could feel myself pressed against Gilbert, bowing myself to him, submitting.

Gilbert's lips pulled away from mine softly. Our lips made that sensual kissing sound and I felt my heart skip a little. I didn't attempt to pull myself away from him right away and Gilbert took my lethargy for further consent. He kissed me again, in that same soft yet insisting way.

And I could imagine us doing this again. And again and again and again. My hands gripped his shirt forcefully, as if I were afraid to let go.

Ha. That's almost poetic.

Right now everything was screaming _yes yes yes_ to me and yet I still hesitated. I longed to be with someone after so many years of being alone. To _really _be with someone. Not just for a moment, or for a night, but for time unknown. Was that person meant to be Gilbert? I could hardly give credit to the idea, but to be honest it was looking better and better by the moment.

But could I rely on him? That was what was really holding me back. Gilbert can be so fickle. His moods can run with the wind. And yet…. And yet there was another side to him, was there not? That dedicated military Prussian side that demanded respect and loyalty above all. Proud and yet dependable.

I wanted to bow to him yet I couldn't do it freely.

And yet…. I had the buds of a plan flowing through my mind.

"Gilbert," I said.

"Hmm?" he replied huskily.

"I think I want to try it. Try _us. _But I can't just magically trust you. I'm so afraid you're going to hurt me." It was hurting me right now, being this honest. But if I couldn't get this all on the table now it was never going to work between us.

"I won't," Gilbert replied. "Really, I do kinda care about you, Specks." He must have seen the look on my face because he back peddled quickly. "I mean, I do care about you, Roderich. A whole bunch." I didn't mistake his rough talk for indifference. I know how he puts on that tough exterior.

"Well, you'll have to prove it to me. If you'll do this one little thing I'll promise to trust you."

"What is it?" Gilbert said, perking up, grasping at this chance. "I'll do anything."

_Oh, anything? _I thought dryly. How heroic. Well, soon enough I'd find out if this was all just a game to him.

XxXxX

**[Oooohhhh Lawdy. I'm so pumped to write the final chapter. You guys are going to like it. Bahahaha I'm all a-twitter at what's to come. But I won't let you guys in on the secret. Hey, I never claimed to be a nice kid, now did I?]**


	4. Chapter 4

"_What," _Gilbert asked. He actually hit his ear lightly with his palm, as if dislodging some obstruction.

"You heard me just fine," I sniffed, a little hurt. I knew he wouldn't go for it. Thankfully, the elevator pinged, and the doors glided open. I strode purposefully out of the elevator, only to be caught by the elbow and pulled back in by Gilbert. I looked him in the eyes defiantly, trying not to let the blush creeping up my cheeks signal my defeat. I could hear the elevator glide closed behind me, though it didn't budge up or down. Obviously no one had called for it since we got on.

"Are you for serious," Gilbert asked, more inquisitive than mocking.

"Deadly serious," I responded.

"I believe it," Gilbert said, letting go of my arm. "I honestly didn't think you had such deviousness in you, kid. You're lucky I like you. So, fine, I'll do it."

"Good. I'm glad," I replied, trying to sound cool and composed. "I need to focus on the conference, though. So Friday then? Our last day at the hotel?"

"It'll be a date," Gilbert said, spreading his arms grandly and bowing a bit. I hit the open elevator button and exited, pausing to nod goodbye to Gilbert.

I didn't know my hands were shaking until I tried to place the key into the door of my room. With some wonder I couldn't decide if my hands were shaking from nerves or excitement. After all, it's not every day I get Gilbert Beilschmidt to agree to let me fuck him.

XxXxX

"Hey," I fairly yelled, pushing the door of Gilbert's hotel room open forcefully as soon as it opened a crack. The door slammed open, hitting the buffer on the oppose wall with a meaty thud. Gilbert looked quite surprised; probably because I had nearly taken his nose off first thing in the morning. "'Heads I win, tails you lose?' You tricked me."

"Wha? Oh. That. Yeah, haven't you ever heard that trick before? I learned it from a nine year old."

"And you fell for it?" I bawled.

"Well, no," Gilbert said, surprised. "Of course I didn't. You'd have to be an—oh. Oh. Don't tell me you fell for it, Roddy," Gilbert dissolved into whooping guffaws. "I thought you were letting me pull one over on you cos you were too proud to ask for it!"

My face felt aflame. I was so angry at myself, at Gilbert, at everything. So very _irrationally _angry. I had half a mind to take a swing at him. Gilbert saw this reflected in my face and took a step backwards. "Hey, now. Calm down, Roddy. I dunno why you get upset over the little stuff."

"Upset? Sure, I think it's quite reasonable to get upset when someone is trying to make the fool out of you!" With all the dignity I could muster, I spun on my heels and—and Gilbert grabbed me again. What the hell is it with this guy and man-handling me? I protest.

"Hey," Gilbert said, sounding extremely pissed. He spun me around against my will so that we were facing each other. His hands were like vice grips on my shoulder, to the point where it almost hurt. "Listen here, princess, you've got one hell a chip on your shoulder that I can't figure out for the life of me. Everything is attitude with you. I tell you I like you and what happens? You fly off the handle and hurl accusations. I joke around with you a bit and you damn near take a swing at me."

"Shut up and let me go." I tried to pull myself away from his grasp but Gilbert only tightened his grip. Now his grip was noticeably uncomfortable and I won't lie—I was a bit frightened.

"What's it like to have no friends, uh? What's it like to feel like every fuckin' day someone's trying to undermine your manhood? Is it tiring? Because if it were me I don't know how I'd get myself out of bed in the morning." I was waiting for him to start shaking me like a rag doll. Gilbert's attention wandered a moment, peering behind me; I twisted around as much as I could to see what he was looking at. At least three rooms had opened their door to see what the ruckus was about. One man was standing in a bathrobe with only half of his face shaved while a little further down the hall an elderly lady was peering at us suspiciously from behind large, owlish glasses.

Oh, wow. We were that white trash couple having a fight at seven thirty in the morning in a hotel hallway. I've never been so embarrassed in my life, which is probably why I followed Gilbert into his hotel room when he let my shoulders go instead of fleeing back to my own room. There's no way I could take the Walk of Shame in front of all those nebby people, even if it was only to the other end of the hall.

Gilbert's door closed behind me and I felt uncomfortable at once. Gilbert was pacing the floor, not even looking at me. Finally, he stopped and turned towards me. There was a good seven feet between us but I still didn't feel safe. "'It's better to lose your pride with someone you love rather than to lose that someone you love with your useless pride,'" he said simply.

I was stunned. What? That sounds…. Actually intelligent. Reasonable, even. "Who said that?" I asked.

Gilbert shrugged. "Some old English dude. Don't remember the name. But I could almost swear he wrote it with you in mind."

"Yeah, right," I mumbled, crossing my arms. Gilbert and his English friend can take a long walk. Preferably right off of the shortest pier they can find.

"Have you listened to a word I've said, Roderich?" Gilbert was yelling again. "I like you and for whatever reasons your damned fool pride is tricking you into thinking otherwise."

"Quit yelling," I interrupted. I was starting to get a headache from the blood pounding sickly behind my temple. I'm quite sure that I probably have a vein or two bulging on my neck. It couldn't be good for my blood pressure.

"I don't know what else to do," Gilbert replied, throwing his hands in the air. "I've tried being sincere to you and you turn up your nose. I try pleasuring you and the next day you won't look me in the face. I agree to let you put your dick up my ass and still, somehow, in your convoluted thought processes, you manage to work out that I'm trying to have a laugh at you. I'm frustrated. I'm at the end of my fucking rope. You won't give me an inch. But when I kiss you, I feel the difference. When you let me touch you your muscles melt. What the fuck more invitation do you need, _du, du verdammt trottel!" _

I couldn't even reply. I was simply stunned. No one has talked to me like that—well, _ever. _It was like a slap to the face, or a bucket of cold water suddenly down the nape of my neck. I should have been offended. I should storm right out the door. Instead, I felt ashamed of myself. I absolutely cannot believe I'm saying this, but Gilbert is striking a chord with me. I felt as disoriented as if I had been hit.

"I—I'm sorry, Gilbert. I'm sorry. You're completely right. I just don't know any other way to act. I suppose I'm just set in my ways. After all, I haven't changed my ways in over two hundred years. Can," I said meekly, the words backed up in my mouth in such a way that I wasn't sure I could force them out. "Can you help me change?" I finished. And a funny thing happened. I asked for help and I didn't implode. I let my deepest insecurity out and nobody laughed, hellfire didn't rain down on my face.

I'm such a prideful asshole.

There. I said it.

Gilbert's face lit up. "I never thought you'd hear you say it, Roddy!"

"Yeah, well, I hope you were paying attention because you'll never hear those words come out of my mouth again," I replied with a dainty sniff. Gilbert only laughed. He took my shoulders again, but this time his grip was soft. His thumbs worked over my back in little nonsense circles while he beamed at me. He let go of my shoulders much sooner than I would have thought, and began tearing the shirt off of his back.

"What are you doing?"

"Let's seal the deal, Roddy. Strike while the iron is hot. Make hay while the sun shines," Gilbert said giddily. The hell is he on about?

"I have the conference today," I said, "I can't… not till Friday, I've told you."

"Pshaw. The Swiss are speaking today and no one gives a flying fuck what those peace lovin money grubbing, clock makers have to say."

"Gilbert," I said disapprovingly. He is so very rough on Vash. I don't understand what their rivalry is all about.

"….Fine," I caved after a moment's thought. I can always get notes from Ludwig. Besides, I know I will never focus on the meeting now. I can't believe I'm saying this but….. damn the Euro, damn the Swiss Franc, damn the Pound, and damn the bloody Yankee dollar!

If I had any shame left after such a tumultuous morning it would have come round in full force as I fairly jumped into Gilbert's arms. Our faces clacked together fiercely, teeth bruising lips, maybe chipping an Eye tooth. I couldn't be sure right now; I'd have to check later. The bruising of my lips didn't stop me though; nothing mattered now except being bad, being ever so _naughty, _for skipping the conference and clambering against Gilbert's naked chest like a wanton whore.

My blood was pounding through my temples again, this time in an adrenaline rush. Gilbert wrapped his arms around me and dragged me back to the bed. I sat down heavily while Gilbert stood in front of me, unbuckling his pants clumsily in his haste. I glanced down and saw the bloody bedspread had been left on, though the sheets were rumpled and slept in. This aggression will not stand. I ripped the disgusting article off and flung it carelessly into the corner. Gilbert paused, favoring me with an '_I don't always understand you, but I'll take your word for it,' _glance.

He fairly bowled me over when he climbed on top of me. Kisses rained harshly, but not unpleasantly upon my throat as Gilbert worked to claw the buttons of my crisp, white dress shirt open. If he pops one off I swear on my life….

Collar bone now exposed, Gilbert sucked at the flesh greedily. I know there will be angry welts there tomorrow but I wouldn't dare tell him to stop. Not when it felt so good. And is that my breath whooshing as loud as a hurricane? Stale hotel room air has never tasted so good or exotic. My starched shirt rustled peevishly as it was peeled haphazardly away from my arms and body. My hands tangled in Gilbert's hair and I accidently pulled it a little too roughly. There was no protest but I lowered my head to kiss at the sore locks as Gilbert buried his face in my stomach.

Gilbert looked up to kiss me again full on the mouth. Our next kiss was done with parted lips and just a taste of tongue. Gilbert bit my bottom lip lightly, pulling it gently away from my teeth in a way that was so unnerving I couldn't stand it. When his lips met mine again, I forced my tongue into his mouth, a little too eager, and lapped at the roof of his mouth. Gilbert's tongue traced the bottom of mine and I could taste him full on, the organic, familiar but yet just different enough taste of his saliva was something I swore to never forget.

With a surge of uncharacteristic, aggressively masculine emotion, I reaffirmed the idea of topping the hell out of Gilbert Beilschmidt. I haven't sunk into someone else's flesh for an obscenely long time. Aw, hell, if you must know I haven't been laid since a week after I wed Elizaveta.

By this time Gilbert had his hand well down my underpants and was fishing around expertly. I dragged his hand away and he looked at me in surprise. "Roll over," I commanded, bracing myself against his shoulders. He rolled us over roughly and I barely managed to avoid biting my tongue, though I toppled against his chest with an "oof." I could feel Gilbert's deep chuckles reverberating in his chest. I clambered up with a huff, and straddled his chest, feeling like the king of the mountain.

I took it upon myself to mirror what Gilbert did and lowered my head to suck at his neck noisily. I was a bit too spitty, and nipped a little too hard. Gilbert grunted in response, the cords of his neck flexing under my mouth. My mouth left with a pop and I surveyed the angry, red welt with little regret. I could see the red indent of each of my front teeth. Groovy.

Next I lapped at Gilbert's earlobe in a way I'd only fantasized about. Well, in my fantasies it wasn't Gilbert I lapped and ministrated upon, rather, if I can admit a little guiltily, it was Vash. But that was all over now, I reflected, dragging my teeth lightly over his ear lobe. As I pulled mouth away, Gilbert clasped the back of my head and brought my mouth back to his ear lobe. I practically shoved half his ear in my mouth and sucked on it obscenely. Gilbert's breath caught raggedly in his throat and I rubbed our hips together, as always, too rough and unpracticed.

Gilbert didn't seem to mind if I got a little rough with him. He ran the backs of his feet over my legs and the friction of our leg hair made me squirm a little. "Underwear," Gilbert croaked rustily, squirming beneath me as our erections rubbed and bumped, wetting the front of my underwear significantly more than Gilbert's.

Well, tonight precum could certainly come in handy. I could hear the stitching in my waist band rip with a purr as I stretched it past its limit in my frantic attempt to get it off.

_Fingers, fingers, _I chanted mentally. I was at the breadth of my experience looking into a murky unknown. If I lose my nerve Gilbert won't hesitate to step up and I couldn't let that happen. Gilbert read my pause and grabbed my fingers. He practically crammed them down his throat. His tongue lapped at them, making noise that seemed to be deafeningly loud. Spittle lazed down Gilbert's chin and I should have been thoroughly disgusted. I wasn't.

I removed my fingers when they felt slick, wet, and slightly pruney, immediately moving to lap up the spit on Gilbert's face. It was warm and slightly frothy but I didn't mind a single iota. I may not be a wine drinker but I can appreciate a delicacy when I happen upon one.

Gilbert's leg slipped up until it made a triangle bend at the knee, hip, and bed. I slipped between his legs. His erection poked me in the stomach and Gilbert's hips flexed into the soft flesh of my middle with a low purr.

In my hesitance, I made no further move with my fingers. Gilbert flexed his hips achingly one, two more times before relaxing with a labored grunt. His hands guided mine and pretended to not notice the slight tremor. I tried to be smooth and failed miserably as Gilbert grunted again, this time in pain, as my finger entered him. "I'm sorry," I pleaded, kissing his chest, and freezing my finger, second knuckle deep in my abused lover. "Don't… stop. Relax your hand, for Pete's sake."

"Oh," I gasped, relaxing my tensed muscles and moving my finger, achingly slow, in and out, in an out. "Another," Gilbert whispered. And this time I eased in carefully, never stopping the motion. This was nerve wracking. I felt a bead of sweat roll down my face as I put in one last finger. It didn't work long before Gilbert felt much more comfortable around my digits and he didn't have such a pained look on his face.

"Ok, Roddy, I can't stand another minute of anticipation." I removed my fingers carefully. My nerves felt on fire and my chest felt full of butterflies. It was time.

Gilbert did the next part, smearing my precum over my aching erection in a way that made what happened in that shitty hotel on the road seem no more satisfying than a handshake. _This is what it feels like when you let go. I like it, _I thought.

"Well?" Gilbert gasped, drawing me out of my contemplation. I ached for him, I yearned for him. My flesh actually pulsated in anticipation. "Be smooth when you do it," Gilbert croaked. "You can do it. You're a smooth fucking criminal right now."

_Just like driving a stick shift, _I advised. _Smooth letting the brake out, smooth pushing the gas pedal in. _

_But I can't drive a stick shift, _my mind rebelled. I felt the sheen of sweat on my back beading, preparing to roll down my flesh. _Gilbert doesn't know that,_ I thought madly, frantically. Smooth fucking criminal.

I slipped in beautifully, Gilbert arching his back to fit me as I filled him. My arms felt weak as I propped myself up on the rough sheets. Oh, he was so tight. Tighter, forgive me for being vulgar, than Elizaveta was the few times we made love.

Gilbert wrapped his legs around my lower back, pulling me in more than I dared to go myself. We started a rocking motion, mine fumbling for almost a half a minute while Gilbert adjusted his thrusts patiently.

I was having the time of my life while we synched and sped up. My stomach ached and tingled in pleasant waves of endorphins. My voice went from increasingly ragged, switching to low moans.

"Not… cutting it," Gilbert panted.

"Wha?" I asked, glasses skewed up my face.

"Ho kay," Gilbert said with one final grunt, rolling us over. His muscles, not missing an ounce of definition from his Templar days, made the switch bearable, though still unpleasant.

Now that Gilbert was on top of me, straddling me and bracing himself on my chest, he smiled down at me in that Gilbert-esque grin, and moved with more grace than I thought possible. The muscles on his stomach were defined nicely, not overly muscular yet toned to perfection and I found myself hypnotized by them. Gilbert's chest heaved as he arched upon me, finally letting loose with a satisfied groan. My spine tingled at the sound. I could get used to this. All of this. Gilbert was working his own erection frantically, and I felt guilty at neglecting my job. When he came, he tightened around me and I felt my erection being squeezed beyond bliss and I came soon. I didn't feel graceful as I flopped underneath of him like a gasping fish but damn, I felt good.

"Arg," Gilbert grunted as he detangled our bodies before I went soft inside of him. I blushed at the wet noise we made, so utterly uncalled for. He rolled off of me, not quite clearing my body. He covered my side, warm, sweaty, and gasping. It was glorious in a way that I would have been ashamed of it I weren't so tired.

We laid there until the sweat cooled on our bodies. I was getting uncomfortably chilled and my flesh goose pimped. Gilbert drew the sheet and light blanket over us and resumed his soft, lethargic kisses upon my neck.

XxXxX

We were awakened quite suddenly by the telephone's shrill ring. I stared blearily at the clock but I couldn't read a thing without my glasses. Gilbert answered it groggily and I could hear angry shouting over the other line. Gilbert let his head fall upon the pillow and closed his eyes, seemingly oblivious to the noisy phone by his face. I heard my name being yelled in question and I started a little. "No," Gilbert said, opening his eyes and winking conspiratorially at me. "I haven't seen Roderich since last night." A pause, "Yes, yes, he got to his hotel room fine. If he was laying at the bottom of the stairwell with a broken neck the staff would have found him by now." Another pause, "no, I'm sick. If you come up here I won't even open the door. No, I'll get room service if I get hungry. GOODBYE, West."

Gilbert muttered something suspiciously like 'fuck the police' before snuggling up to me again. I exhaled and got comfortable. The last thing Gilbert said before we ordered room service was;

"Roddy?"

"Hmm"

"Next time I top. I ain't nobody's bitch."

"We'll see about that," I said smugly.

"Ha ha. I like you, Roddy. We're going to bicker about everything and love every second of it."

"Mm hmm," I agreed, sleepily.

"And you know what else?" I was too tired to respond but I heard him clearly before I drifted off, "I think the Yen is full of shit too. We should stage a protest against damn dirty communism tomorrow."

**[A/N **_** du, du verdammt trotte—you, you damned idiot!**_

**I don't think I've ever written anything from Roddy's POV that I've actually published so this was interesting. Very, very interesting. Austrian power HOO HA!**

**Alas, my readers, this is the last chapter. Good luck, Roddy and Gil, you'll probably need it when Ludwig comes banging down your door.]**


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